


Cold Feet

by ivanolix



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Canon - TV, Canon Compliant, Canon Het Relationship, Developing Relationship, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Remix, Season/Series 02, Socks, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-17
Updated: 2010-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam isn’t a magical cure to the mess that is Kara’s life, but there’s something to be said for what they have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Feet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Socks](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3669) by rose_griffes. 



> Thank you to bluediamond421 for her awesome beta work as well as the inspiration for a title. Set after the election in Lay Down Your Burdens Part 2.

“Go on, try her out.” Her mouth wouldn’t stop smiling as she pushed him forward.

“You sure I can handle it?”

She didn’t even think about the pause, barely noticeable, before she said, “Of course.”

Zak’s grin lit up the near-empty hangar bay more than the flickering lights. Up the ladder he climbed, easy in his pilot’s suit, hopping down into the Viper cockpit with exaggerated cool. She shook her head, smile still ten miles wide.

“So, I just get all locked in?” He glanced down at her.

Kara tapped the edge of the wing with her hand. “That’s the idea.”

He gave her a grin that slightly wavered before buckling, pressing buttons, ignoring the helmet because they wouldn’t be going airtight. Hope waited at the back of her throat, sweet and tight, watching him succeed at this. It would all be good.

She heard a control flick, and then the cockpit closed with a click.

“Hey, Zak, don’t do that.” Kara hopped up a step to frown in at him.

“I didn’t.” He looked across the controls, eyes scanning. “I didn’t touch anything!”

“It’s that button right there,” Kara pointed, taking a deep breath. “Just open it up.”

He clicked at the small circle, but the cockpit didn’t open. Zak’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, glancing up at her with wide eyes. “Kara, there’s hissing...the air is leaving.”

“Okay, you’re going to have to do an emergency boot,” Kara started, hands clenching, fear gripping.

“I don’t know how—” 

“It doesn’t matter what you know, I’ll tell you what to do.” She forced herself to look into his frightened eyes.

“Kara, I can’t—the air’s going too fast, it’s almost—”

The hangar lights flickered and went out.

“No, gods!” Kara swore, utter darkness making her feel as if she’d fallen into a pit. “Zak, don’t worry, I’ve got it. I won’t let you—Zak, answer me!” She hit the side of the Viper that she could feel in the dark, panic rushing through her veins. “Zak!”

All she heard was hands battering at the inside of the cockpit, fast, frantic, hitting against the glass in desperation. Then nothing. Just darkness.

“Zak!”

*

Kara woke with a jerk, gasping for a fresh breath as the stale fear ate at her chest. The bed shifted beneath her. She pushed aside the blankets, clawing for fresh air that couldn’t be found in pilots’ quarters.

“You all right?”

Exhaling, slowly, she could feel the real world again. It was Sam. He moved up behind her in the small bunk, a hand on her shoulder.

She wiped tangled hair out of her eyes, and leaned back down to the bed, him at her back. “Yeah. Fine.”

His body was warm behind hers, warm and alive, and she’d ensured that it would remain so. Caprica, Cylons, all left behind them.

Sam’s fingers ran slowly up her arm, curling around her shoulder, stroking softly. “Nightmare?” he asked quietly.

She made a small noise before she could think about doing otherwise.

“So they don’t go away for soldiers either.” His long sigh tickled warmly at her neck.

Kara closed her eyes and felt the imaginary float away, leaving only the sticky reality that the dream hadn’t come from nowhere. “It wasn’t about war, Sam,” she said, and shifted a little more on her side, nudging back towards him.

He didn’t ask. He fit himself around her, almost spooning, and any other time she would have been distracted by the way that this was new; cuddling, sleeping. But even when his arm curved around her waist and made her feel warm again, the silence hit her. She wouldn’t have guessed that he knew how to make silence an action of its own.

For a second she hoped he’d fallen back asleep, but she could hear his breathing and knew he hadn’t. “I was a flight instructor,” she said. “I trained pilots. I passed one of them too early, and he died because of it.”

She felt his lips on her hair, a soft kiss, and she swallowed down the dry fear and self-hatred. Too many bad memories had associations with this bunk, with empty nightmares. Easing back against Sam, breathing out slowly, she could forget where she was. Sam was there, safe, alive, hers.

It didn’t cross her mind that she might have slept alone since Zak on purpose. Her sleep was almost guilt-free now, tangled with Sam and everything he didn’t ask about, and how somehow that silence wicked the darkness away and kept the lights from flickering.

*

Sam moved down to the planet, grinning as he told her he was starting to fear for his life from the sleep-deprived pilots who bunked near her. Kara didn’t really think about asking him to stay. Her bed felt a little cold that night, but she only noticed when Hot Dog complimented her on keeping it quiet at last. She threw her shoe at him and drifted off to sleep.

Settlement was happening, and Raptors were flying down to New Caprica, and the cycle went around and around until Kara managed to get off it planet-side. She sucked in breaths of the fresh air, and she found Sam, and they didn’t have to worry about being quiet in his bunk off on its own in a tent.

He woke her with a jerk at dawn, nudging her with a mumbled, “Cold feet.”

She snorted, too tired to think of anything about how long it had been since that had been an option. The chill air beat stale recycled heat any old day. That last curl of her toes against his warm calf might have been deliberate, but she was too drowsy to say, and she fell asleep just as he groaned and shifted.

It was back to the ship in the morning.

Her bunk was empty again that night, and her feet hung off the edge and got almost cold. But when her bleary eyes rose from the pillow at reveille, it was just her and the covers. There had been a nightmare somewhere in the night, and a bitter taste hung in the back of her throat. She swallowed.

Kara could always take the shift that would let her go back to the planet that night, sleep with Sam after some vigorous not-sleeping. Feel his warmth, doubly important with the chill air. He might play with her hair first, slip her out of her clothes leisurely, absorbing every detail. Maybe she’d dream of that.

She got up, cleaned up, walked to the pilots room. The board on the wall had just a few less names than it had two months ago. The list to the side, of the ones they lost, was only in her head.

But it started with Zak’s name and just got worse from there. Sam’s name would never be on that list.

Kara swallowed sharply, and knew she couldn’t go to find Sam tonight. There should be no pretend escape for her.

“You don’t need to ask,” said the CAG, walking in with the flying schedule. “I already have you flying a donut run.”

She didn’t tell him she didn’t want to go now.

Sam was more silent than usual when he found her, and they just drank together until he got too tipsy and she was responsible for dragging him off to his bed. He was too heavy, and her muscles ached by the last step. But he was also too tired to pull her in after him, nuzzling her until she gave in and let the comfort wash away everything. She kissed his forehead instead and walked off.

A few steps later, her heart twisted a little, and she reluctantly walked back to leave a note. She did make it to the Raptor without thinking twice about it, though, and flew a late night shift to make her feel less like she was avoiding.

*

Her bunk on Galactica stayed cold a few more nights. More people started wanting the planet shifts and her assignments popped up less and less. She missed it. But it was harder to feel guilty about that.

Viper CAPs were a pain without the Cylons around. Routine made her distracted, made memories come, and the cramped space and old air had never seemed so distasteful. On her next planet shift, she spun down through the atmosphere and felt the rush of Gs pierce her dusty soul and ignite it with joy again. The adrenaline spiked as she felt dirt beneath her boots, stars above her head, cool air filling her lungs as her breath clouded it.

She couldn’t stop grinning as she found Sam, not thinking about it, just feeling alive and forgetting that she wasn’t allowing herself to forget. He was making himself dinner, and she laughed and poked him with a fork, and the flash of his smile as he flicked a stem at her was a balm. They ate together, and he blanketed his arm around her shoulders, and she wove her fingers into his and stayed quiet. It was true quiet this time.

Then the leftover adrenaline buzzed a little to remind her that it was still there, waiting, and her mind drifted to all the things that Sam could do with the fingers she was playing with.

“So, we’ve moved to the domestic stage now?” he asked, head leaning against the top of hers.

Kara laughed in her mocking way and kissed him soundly, and before the moon had fully risen he’d dragged her off to bed with an anticipatory exuberance she couldn’t help but miss when he wasn’t there.

She fell asleep on his chest eventually, blankets haphazardly tossed over them both, and covering...well, enough of them. Sometime in the night she rolled off, and he elbowed her a few hours later to grab some of the blanket back.

No nightmares at all, at last, not even hiding at the back of her memory. Morning eased slowly in, and the feeling of cold made itself known first. Grunting, she could sense the blanket near, and it had been stolen from her in the night, leaving her mostly bare to the air. It was almost cute, except it would be cuter once she wasn’t chilled.

“My blanket, Zak, I told you,” she mumbled, yanking it back.

“Hmm?”

She froze. A disoriented blink reminded her that this was New Caprica and not her apartment. “Sam.” From one kind of memory to another, and neither of them deserved it.

“Do I know Zak?”

She wanted to roll over, get up and leave. But in a perverse way, staying with Sam wasn’t an escape now, and she was still cold. Her throat made a small noise as she slowly moved under the blanket, letting the empty seconds tick away long enough for her to know what she was doing when she rolled over to face him. “Zak’s dead. I—four years ago, I got him killed. We were going to be married, and I was an idiot.”

Sam looked at her slowly, eyes a little tired but keeping track.

Kara thought it would feel worse, but...her body was warming up again.

“He was a student of yours.”

Startled, her eyes met his, finally clear. And he wasn’t running away from her in horror, even after making the connection with what she’d said before. “’m sorry, okay,” she muttered, rolling back.

“Okay,” he said, settling at her back. It didn’t take much effort to believe him. “As long as you don’t steal the blanket.”

The involuntary curl of her lips in a smile hurt, but she breathed out, and stayed. She might regret it later, but she stayed. He made an incoherent complaining noise later as her cold feet found his, but no one ran.

*

Her next shift took a while, long enough for her to think too much. She didn’t want Zak again, and it frustrated her that no matter what, she couldn’t seem to escape him. On her own the painful recollections lingered; with Sam the good parallels were just as achingly unwanted.

And she wasn’t even sure why they kept coming. He was just Sam, just someone she loved for exactly what they had right now, and it wasn’t like anything she’d had before. There shouldn’t be any memories rising to the surface. Things weren’t going down that path.

She found that Sam and his people had set up a pyramid court on one of her next trips, and it didn’t take long for Sam to notice her standing and watching. His smile was cautious as he tossed her the ball, but she tossed it back with a dance of her eyes and joined in. By the time the round was over, she remembered too well the feel of his arms around her, and decided that she was in the mood for something other than tackling over a ball.

They disappeared behind one of the tents, his mouth hot and wet over hers, hands tight at her waist. But when she paused, trying to pull him closer, he made a noise under his breath and just held her, lips pressed against her neck in successive soft kisses. “You feel good.”

His embrace said he’d missed her, but she couldn’t say it to him. She breathed slowly, arms around his waist as he held the moment steady.

Then she didn’t know what to do, so she pulled back. “I only have a few minutes.”

He nodded and managed a smile, and she used those last few minutes for a long slow kiss, but knew he wasn’t stupid about what she really meant.

Her next shift didn’t come up for another couple days, but it was her best run yet, and she forgot about the grin on her face until he saw and matched it, and the light on his face hit her too hard. She didn’t think twice about it, just pounced him, laughing her emotion until she was breathing too hard to do anything but whisper “more”.

The night shift called her to pull away after they’d lain sated for a while with her wrapping herself around him for the sake of keeping out the cold air. Her soothed mind didn’t have time to make connections before she was gone again.

It took another week of effort after her next planet-side visit to forget without having to think about forgetting. But it was worth it. Sam was worth it.

*

The atmosphere was her plaything as she tumbled to ground, a spiral of flames and frakking good flying before landing her Raptor with barely more than a jolt. The moon was high, the stars bright, and it was well past night on New Caprica.

Not even bothering to lose the flightsuit, Kara went for Sam, disregarding the hour. He was lying on his back on the bed, face drawn even in sleep, and she wanted to see a different look on his face. Success buzzing through her veins, she straddled him, and grinned at watching the sleep dash away from his face as he woke.

“What time is it?” he asked, with more of a frown than usual.

“Somewhere past o’dark thirty.” She smirked, leaning down to nearly touch her lips to his. “Miss me?”

There was something in his eyes for a second before he reached for her, eager mouth pulling her in for a kiss, and she breathed with him as her heart still raced from the trip down. She could almost hear his pulse too, light and quick. She could almost laugh to herself—apparently he hadn’t missed her, oh no, not at all, clearly.

His fingers drew circular patterns in her hair, and she leaned into them and hummed, missing whatever question he asked (probably dryly) about the timing of her schedule. Just because she was awake didn’t mean she wanted to talk, and she answered without thinking. His hands kept working, and the excitement wasn’t getting less, despite her muscles going all soft at his touch.

“Mm,” she groaned, pushing in and kissing him again, sucking at his lower lip. “Okay, come on, enough play.”

“No, no,” he murmured, nuzzling at her cheek.

She inhaled deeply, remembering the situation. “Tired?” Her eyes met his in the near-dark of the tent, and she couldn’t read them.

“Maybe,” he said, running his thumb along her jawline. For a long second he held her gaze, and there was something deep there that she didn’t understand. For that long second she wanted to understand, and wasn’t sure what to make of that want. “Morning too late to continue this?”

It wasn’t what she’d come here for, but he still held her, and there was an underlying ache of weariness in her bones. She didn’t want a bunk tonight, and she wasn’t going to deny herself this. Pushing aside the anticipation of something to relax her into a sleepier mood, she leaned forward until his head fell back against the pillow, and she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and smelling him as she said, resigned, “Okay, Sam, your way works.”

He scooted beneath her, and she started slipping out of her flightsuit. A wry comment about his unhelpfulness in getting her undressed caught in her throat as she saw his gaze on her, and she wondered what was going on in his head. Wondered why he wanted her to stay, no frakking, just sleeping. Maybe he just got cold on his own, but she doubted it.

She let her breath out slowly as she grabbed the blankets from him, the air cooling her limbs too fast as she slid under the covers. He grunted and moved closer to her, and with a small smile she decided didn’t mind, curling up to his chest and finishing her exhale comfortably. She’d forgotten how good it felt to look forward to sleep.

Sam pulled away for a second, reaching off the bed and then under the covers. She frowned when his hands found her feet, and almost kneed his head automatically. “Sam?” she cautioned.

“It’s just socks,” he said, with a rather suspicious glance at her knee. “For your cold feet. I’d rather the morning start on other terms.”

Kara blinked as he slid the clothing on over her feet. “Socks.”

“Mmhmm.” He shifted back up by her side, tucking his arm behind his head. Something, she didn’t know what, had softened on his face.

“That’s new,” she said, rolling over to flop across him, glad the bed was already warm.

“You like new,” he said with a hint of a tired smile.

She smiled back, nipping at his shoulder. “Socks are your idea of a new kink?”

“Oh yeah, because it’s all about sexy with the socks,” Sam snorted, jerking his shoulder back from her teeth. “Ow.”

“Don’t forget where we were in the morning,” Kara said, finally dropping her head on his chest and feeling a yawn.

“Not a chance,” he mumbled, before she felt his arm rest across her waist and his breathing steady out, a soft sleepy rhythm.

Kara let her heart rate fall to match his, just right, just what she hadn’t thought to ask for. And as she fell asleep with him, not knowing why she liked it so much, it was with socks on her feet, carving an unexpectedly new memory. It was just the kind she needed to keep going forward with this, past whatever the next morning would bring.


End file.
